


Perchance to Dream

by sparrowshellcat



Category: The Covenant (2006)
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/pseuds/sparrowshellcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, after Chase..."<br/>"Who?"<br/>"Chase Collins? The guy who tried to kill me?"<br/>"...who?"<br/>Caleb Danvers had never expected to get attacked by a rouge witch in the first place - but for everyone he knew to suddenly seem to forget that he had even existed...<br/>The more he tries to find proof that Chase not only existed, but did try to kill him, the more his friends become convinced that he's lost his mind. Caleb is dreaming of Chase, though, and the longer he does, the more he's starting to believe that his friends might be right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Though it never happens on screen, past cross-generational incest child abuse is discussed.
> 
> \---
> 
> For more fic and art, you can follow me on Tumblr! [sparrowshellcat](http://sparrowshellcat.tumblr.com)

  


 

_In Ipswich witches weave at night_

_Their magic, spells with impish glee;_

_They shriek and laugh in their demon flight_

_From the old Main House to the frightened sea._

_And ghosts of eld come out to weep_

_Over the town that is fast asleep;_

_And they sob and they wail, as on they creep:_

_"It was, but it never again will be."_

_\-- Eugene Field, The Ipswitch_

\---

“What's got you so bent out of shape?” 

Caleb looked up from his history text book and met his best friend's eyes briefly as Pogue slid into the seat next to his. “I’m just having a bad morning.” 

“Oh yeah? What prompted it this time?” He smirked, tugging his books out of his bag. 

“Mother.” 

“Ouch. Is she drinking again?” Pogue looked sympathetic. 

“Worse, actually. Turns out she's even more weepy when she’s sober.” Caleb groaned. “I swear, ever since my father willed me his power...” 

“He _what_?” 

Caleb looked up from his book again, brows furrowed in confusion. “He willed his power to me...?” 

“When did he do that?!” Pogue hissed, jaw gaping. The classroom was starting to fill up, so he had to keep his voice down to make sure that no one else heard them – it was kind of hard to keep a covenant of silence if everyone in class could hear. 

Confused, and not a little insulted by the fact that his best friend apparently couldn't even remember something that had been such a big deal to him, he grumbled, “You know, three weeks ago, when Chase tried to kill me at my ascension, and my father willed me his power so I’d be strong enough to beat him?” 

“When... _who_ tried to kill you?” 

“Are you _high_?” Caleb demanded, as he gaped at his best friend in confusion. “Chase! Chase _Collins_!” 

There was no recognition in Pogue's eyes. 

“Who?” 

Something was _very_ wrong. 

\--- 

It was raining. 

Caleb sighed softly as he leaned back on the back steps of the Spencer's English building, eyes closed as the rain pounded down on his head, slipping over his eyelids and down his jaw, dripping down his spine. 

He loved the rain. 

Years ago, Tyler had been flipping through the Book of Damnation – Caleb didn't think he'd had a purpose, he'd just been bored – when he'd stumbled on a passage that said that the Covenant of Silence controlled the elements of the world. When they'd asked Gorman, he'd said it didn't matter anyway, so why did they care? Well, if there was one thing Tyler really liked doing, it was pissing off Gorman Twoberry, so he started researching it. Actually researching. What he had come back with was that other witches – ones that actually had to do spells and combine ingredients to do magic – made circles in which they had five points, representing five elements. 

They were elementals. 

Of course, in the long run, it meant very little, really, except that they were all a little more powerful in their element and had a little more control there. 

Reid had said once that maybe if they were always in their element they'd stop aging. Pogue, whose element was air, had pointed out that he was constantly surrounded by his element and that it had done _him_ no damn good, but that if Reid wished to electrocute himself for the rest of his life, he was welcome to it. Tyler refused to be buried under the earth forever, and Caleb was fairly sure he couldn’t actually breath underwater, even though his element was the water itself.

So the only thing Caleb loved more than the rain was the ocean. 

Speaking of... 

He stood from the steps, and walked a mere half dozen steps before his bare feet were touching the foam of the waves. It seemed a design flaw, he thought, to put a building so very close to the ocean's edge, but he turned to look back at it and Spencer's Academy was gone. 

Maybe they'd realized the error of their ways. 

Smiling, Caleb slipped out into the waves, until the cold Atlantic was up to his waist, currents and eddies curling around his ankles. The undertow in Ipswich scared many otherwise experienced swimmers. 

It thrilled him. 

To him, the undercurrent represented the possibility that someday the ocean could – and would – finally wrap its watery arms around him, and take him home. 

Caleb had already written a will – it seemed fitting when, under the right circumstances, he could die of old age within the decade – and he'd said that, without any argument, he was to be buried at sea. He knew where he wanted his final resting place to be. 

Twisting to look back at the shore, Caleb blinked when he realized that it was only water in every direction. 

This sandbar was a lot longer than he'd expected. 

And then steam started to rise off the water. 

“...what?” Caleb asked, confused, turning in circles to try and see the source of this phenomenon, then froze. 

There was another man walking closer, _on_ the surface of the water, and flames floated on the waves where he stepped, leaving floating pools of footstep flames behind. The man walked up until he was right in front of Caleb, then crouched, grinning. “Hello, Caleb.” 

He swallowed, hard. 

“Chase.” 

Three weeks ago, this man had tried to kill him. 

Caleb had tried to kill him right back. 

Apparently he'd been less than successful. 

He tried to move, to bolt away from the other witch, but his feet felt as though they were cemented in place. The sand had slowly encased them as he'd stood there, and he was completely unable to get away from Chase even though he desperately wished he were anywhere but here right now. He could just use to be away, but... 

But he couldn't justify the cost. 

“How _have_ you been, Caleb?” Chase drawled, smirking that damn smirk of his, like he knew exactly how not well Caleb had been doing. “Still not regretting fighting to save Sarah?” 

“You stay the _hell_ away from her,” he growled, and he could feel his own eyes flare into black. Maybe it _was_ worth using. 

“Oh, I wouldn't touch your girlfriend with a ten foot pole, Caleb.” He sneered. “ _You_ , however...” 

“Fuck. Off. Chase.” He snapped. 

“I'd rather fuck you,” he grinned, then Chase shifted down on the water, somehow sitting on it like the surface of the water was a table, legs dangling down into the water. “But I’m imagining that, at the moment, you're not really so open to that idea. No worries, of course, eventually you will be.” 

“You're _dead_.” Caleb said, firmly. 

“Do I _look_ dead?” Chase laughed, spreading his hands out, smiling cheerfully. “Caleb, I most certainly am not dead. You see, it's impossible for me to die if I’ve never really existed.” 

He furrowed his brows, and glowered up a the man he'd very briefly considered 'friend'. “You exist, Chase.” 

Smirking, Chase leaned closer to him, until his lips were brushing the shell of Caleb's ear and it was only the fact that Caleb's feet were still pinned in place that kept him from bolting back from him. Unable to run, he stood motionless as Chase murmured in his ear, almost like a lover whispering sweet nothings. 

“Are you sure about that, Caleb?” 

He bolted up in bed, gasping for breath, eyes wide, sweat sheening on his skin. 

It had been a dream. 

Fuck. 

\--- 

“Mother?” Caleb called as he walked into the house, frowning. “Are you home?” 

There was no response. When he stepped into the living room, it confirmed that he was, for once, alone in the massive house. He sighed, and picked his father's photo up off the side table, considering the photo for a long moment. Caleb _did_ look like his father, to an extent. As much as any son resembled their father; his mother hadn’t been wrong. 

“What the hell is going on?” He asked his father's portrait. Of course the photo didn't answer. 

This just didn't make sense. 

Three weeks ago, he'd ascended on his eighteenth birthday. He had come into his full power as a witch, had been able to feel power crackling under his skin, begging to be let out and be _used_. And it would feel good, it really _would_ feel good to use and let magic crackle over the world around him. 

Only the magic was addictive, and like some kind of magical meth-head, if he indulged in the magic, his body would slowly decay and wither around him. 

It wasn't fair, for life to give him the power to do anything he wanted, and then making it too terrible to actually use. 

It was like forcing a god into a terracotta shell that shattered with too much power. 

Caleb sighed, set his father's photo back in its place, and headed upstairs to his room. Throwing his backpack onto his bed, Caleb took a deep breath, trying to figure this out. 

He'd ascended three weeks ago, and Chase had been there, trying to kill him. Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely accurate. Chase hadn't merely been trying to _kill_ him, he had been trying to get Caleb to will him his power. 

They couldn’t have known, after all, that the fifth line of the Ipswich Covenant hadn't actually died off long ago, and that John Putnum _had_ an heir. And when a new witch had shown up, none of them had been prepared. Even if he had been prepared, it may not have made a difference because after all, holy _shit_ , an actually ascended witch was _powerful_. Chase had almost killed his girlfriend, Sarah; his best friend Pogue, and Pogue's girlfriend Kate. It had only been the last-minute save from his father willing Caleb his power had kept him from being made into Chase's bitch. 

And now...

Now Pogue didn't even remember that Chase existed. 

That was... weird. 

Really weird.

Frowning, he tugged his phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed, quickly. If anyone knew about what _might_ be going on, it would probably be Reid. 

Reid answered his phone enthusiastically. “Caleb! My main man!” 

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Hey, Reid.” 

“So, to what do I owe the honour of your call?” Reid asked, cheerfully. “If it's because you've finally realized the error of your ways and you want to have sex after all, then I am _so_ there.” 

“That's not why I’m calling, Reid.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Well, it _should_ be why.” 

He sighed. “I'm calling because-- I need to ask you about something.” 

“Sure. Shoot.” 

“Do you remember Chase Collins?” Caleb asked, quietly, afraid of the answer. 

“Oh yeah, sure.” Reid replied, cheerfully. 

Caleb sighed in relief, and slumped to sit on the end of the bed, bonelessly. “I-- good, that’s such a relief, I mean -- God. Good.” He laughed. “I was starting to think I was insane.” 

“Why, because you couldn't remember the name of the guy that sang the Tarzan soundtrack? Lame, man. That is a _lame_ reason to feel insane. Are you're _sure_ you're not gay?” 

The sense of relief drained out of him as quickly as it had come. “That's _Phil_ Collins, Reid.” 

“Ha! Knew it! You know way too much about that stuff, Cay.” 

“No, _Reid_... _Chase Collins_. The _witch_!” 

“...there was a witch named Chase Collins?” He asked, and there was a moment of hesitation on the other end of the line. “Was he on Bewitched, or Sabrina?” 

“In real life!” He was starting to panic. “John Putnum's heir!” 

Reid snorted. “John Putnum had no heir.” 

“He did.” Caleb said, firmly, trembling. “His name was Hagan. Goodwife Pope claimed that he visited her in her dreams as an incubus, it was part of why he got convicted as a witch!” 

“...sure.” Reid said, slowly. “You feeling okay, Caleb?” 

“No!” He all but howled. 

His whole world sort of felt like it was falling down around his ears. No, he was _not_ feeling okay. He could see Chase's smug smirk so very _clearly_ in his mind's eye, and it wasn't just because of the dream last night. He could remember how he'd defended himself against Aaron, and how very smooth Caleb had thought he was, he could remember the spark in his eyes when they'd swam against each other. 

How could no one else _remember_ him? 

There was a crackle of electricity in the air, and Caleb actually cried, “Reid, don't!” into the phone, but it was already done. 

Smoke curled around Reid's shoulders as he abruptly stood in front of him, the crackle of magic fading as he grinned, smoke that smelt of ozone and sulfur drifting off towards the ceiling. “ _'Reid, don't'_?” He imitated him, smirking. “Come on, what the hell is the point of having magic if you don't even use it to come when your friend is freaking out?” 

“It's not using recklessly like that,” Caleb sighed, flicking his phone off. 

“So come on,” Reid flopped beside him on the bed. “Tell doctor Reid what's wrong.” 

“You don't remember Chase Collins.” 

Reid shrugged. “Guess not. So?” 

“So _that_ is the problem.” 

The blond witch sighed heavily, and grabbed Caleb's shoulders, pushing him back to the bed. He gaped up at Reid, confused, but his friend just gave him a rare stern expression, and said, firmly, “Tell me what's wrong, Caleb. Start at the beginning, and just go from there.” 

He sighed, and reached up to grind the heels of his hands into his eyes. “There's a witch, Reid. His name is Chase Collins. He wiggled his way into our trust, then tried to kill us and tried to get me to will my power to him. And none of you even remember him _existing_.” 

“I sure don't.” Reid agreed, frowning. “I wonder why.” 

“Maybe because he was a dick?” Caleb scowled. “He probably used to make you forget.” 

Reid blinked. “Wait, this guy tried to kill you, and he's still _alive_?” 

“Well, they never found a body, so...” he trailed off.

“Hm.” Reid considered that for a long moment, then abruptly suggested, “Well, maybe they never found a body because he never really existed. Maybe he's just a figment of your imagination or something.” 

Caleb gaped at him. “I did not imagine him! He put Pogue in the _hospital_!” 

“That damn bike of his put him in the hospital, Caleb. It wasn't a witch.” Reid sighed, reaching down to play with Caleb's hair, presumably trying to give him some sort of comfort. 

He didn't feel comforted. 

“Look, you've been under a lot of stress since your ascension, maybe you need to take a break or something.” 

Caleb shook Reid’s hands out of his hair, angrily, and then stood. “I didn't just _imagine_ this guy, Reid!” 

“Well, no, ‘cause if you'd imagined him, you would think he's _real_.” Reid rolled his eyes. 

“I'll prove it.” He said, fiercely. 

“Okay...” 

Caleb headed to his desk, and flipped open his laptop before throwing himself down in his chair. He had no idea why his friends couldn't remember him, but he knew that there had been a news article about him, when the school had first discovered that he was 'missing'. 

Reid stepped closer, tucking his chin over Caleb's shoulder as he leaned on his back, watching the screen. 

Spine ramrod straight, Caleb went into Google, and typed “Chase Collins”. 

There was some IMDB listing for a character from Step Up 2, a kid on a BMX bike, a listing for a charity in Utah. But nothing about the boy that had gone missing last month, nothing about the guy that was haunting his dreams. He scrolled to the bottom of the page, desperately, but the only thing there was a very unhelpful suggestion from Google.

 _Did you mean “Phil Collins”?_

Caleb blinked at his computed, confused. “...what?” 

“Gotta say, Caleb, not doing so good on the whole convincing me that you didn't just make this guy up.” Reid said, softly. 

“I don't understand...” 

“I told you, it's stress.” Reid straightened, and slid his fingers into Caleb's hair again, rubbing his scalp. “I mean, you know how us witches can be... our dreams are so _real_ that magic itself can sort of convince us it actually happened... remember the time I convinced Tyler for three days he was actually a girl? I mean, you _have_ been dreaming about this Chase guy, right?” 

Caleb hesitated. 

That was really all the answer that Reid needed. “See? I told you. It's just the stress. You just need to get laid, you'll feel a ton better. I hereby volunteer my services for that, by the way.” 

He shook his head, and bolted up. “Sarah!” 

“....sure.” Reid said, slowly, dropping his hands down to his sides. “You can call me Sarah if you really want to, but I think I look more like an Anita, or something.” 

“No, Reid... _Sarah_. My _girlfriend_.” 

The shorter boy's jaw dropped. “You have a _girlfriend_ and you never said anything? Dude, I have to meet her! I have to know the competition, otherwise it's like some kind of monopoly or something!” 

Caleb was starting to get that sinking feeling again. “What? I... you know Sarah, Reid. You told her that Sarah was your grandmother's name and that she reminded you of her.” 

He snorted. “Oh please. I’m way smooth with the ladies. I’d never say anything _that_ lame.” 

“You _did_.” 

“...did you imagine yourself a girlfriend, too?” Reid sighed, heavily. 

“ _No_!” 

“Mmhmm.” He crossed his arms, arching a brow. “I mean, seriously, Caleb, you know _any_ of us would totally hook up with you if you asked, we're fans of your uptight preppy ass, and besides, what happens in the Covenant stays in the Covenant. And trust me, Caleb baby... until you've had sex with another witch, you have _not_ had sex. I mean, you think using magic feels good _now_ , hoo...!” 

“I did not – I didn't – I didn't make her up, Reid!” 

“Sure you didn't.” He rolled his eyes. “What did she look like?” 

“She's... she's blond, taller than you... has like, dark low lights, you know... dark blue eyes... you know... fuck, Reid, you thought she was attractive, I _remember_ you hitting on her at the party at the Dells, okay? You fucking used to fix her car!” 

Reid hummed, then his eyes flared black. 

His already pale hair started growing, curling down around his shoulders, then beyond as he stepped forward, getting taller as he walked, his already lean form developing curves as his lips plumped up and the black faded out of his eyes to reveal dark blue. He hadn't changed much, and he hadn't actually changed enough to look exactly like her, but the resemblance was... uncanny. “Does this girlfriend of yours look... anything like me?” Reid purred, and the eeriness of almost hearing Sarah's voice sent a shiver down his spine. 

“...no.” 

“You sure?” Reid asked, looping his arms lightly around Caleb's neck, smirking up at him with an unnervingly familiar smile. “Because if it's _this_ me that gets your motor running...” 

“No.” Caleb said, more firmly this time. “Reid... _no_.” 

“Come on, baby,” he breathed, ghosting his – her? - lips over Caleb's. “It ain't cheating if she's not real...” 

“ _No_.” He shoved Reid away from him, panting as he pressed his hands to his forehead, just trying to calm down his racing mind. 

“Shit, man.” Reid glowered at him – and it _was_ Reid again – and snapped, “You could have just said it. I know what 'no' means. You didn't have to get all violent about it.” 

“I'm sorry,” he panted, embarrassed. “I just... I’m freaking out.” 

“Yeah, I _noticed_.” Reid grumbled. 

“I just don't understand.” Caleb groaned. “How can I remember things so clearly and none of you---” 

“Is this a trick question? Because the last time I answered that, you got all pissy.” 

Caleb whimpered, closing his eyes. 

“Look... if she's real... just call her or something. That'll sure show me, huh?” 

His head snapped up as he blinked at Reid. “That's... actually really smart, Reid.” 

Grinning, Reid bowed, cheekily. “I _do_ have my moments.” 

Caleb dug his phone out of his pockets again, and scrolled through his contacts – and Chase was still in there, dammit, but when he showed that to Reid, he pointed out that this actually only proved that Caleb believed he existed – and he scrolled on down to “Sarah Wenham” and dialed. 

It rang twice, then a decidedly male voice said, “Hello?” 

“Uh.” Caleb blinked. “Hey. Is Sarah there?” 

“Ain't no one named Sarah here, buddy.” The man on the other side said, cheerfully. “Sorry, but I think you've got the wrong number.” 

“No, I – I’m _sure_ this is the right number.” Caleb insisted, wide eyed. 

Worst of all was the softly pitying look that Reid was giving him. 

“Sorry, but I think that Sarah chick fake numbered you.” The man said, apologetically. “Good luck actually tracking her down.” 

“Well? She real?” Reid asked. 

Caleb slowly lowered his phone, feeling numb. “I... I don't... understand.” 

“Hey, man, I told you. Witch dreams and stress.” Reid plucked the phone from his fingers, and a still numb Caleb let him. Setting the cell aside, Reid pushed Caleb's jacket off of his shoulders, then unknotted his tie with deft fingers. “You need to get some sleep – some _dreamless_ sleep. Which I can totally take care of for you, okay?” 

“Reid...” he tried. 

“No. Take the next few days off school. I insist. Seriously. Relax, take it easy for awhile, take the next couple days off school.” 

“You can't stop me from going to _school,_ Reid.” He grumbled. 

“Actually, I _can_. I’m not leaving.” 

“Oh, hell no - !” Caleb started. 

Reid smirked, and his eyes flared – and Caleb felt t he words die on his tongue. He knew he could use as easily as Reid had, or even easier, to kill the spell, but with how addictive it was, he wasn't sure he'd _stop_. “There, seen but not heard. I’m pretty sure that makes you the perfect man, Caleb, darling. Now... I’m going to stay here with you, and I am going to take care of you. Resistance, as they say, is futile, because I’m just not going to take no for an answer. Simple. Acceptable?” 

He took a deep breath, and found that he had words again. “And if I say that it's not?” 

“I'll ignore you and stay anyway, quite frankly,” Reid smirked, and kissed the top of his head. “Get yourself in some pjs, and then you are going to _bed_ , mister.” 

Caleb sighed, heavily. “Fine.” 

“Knew you'd see the light,” Reid grinned. 

\--- 

The fire in the centre of the circle was burning, brightly. 

Caleb stared into the flames, frowning, as though expecting the fire to give him some answers. It didn't really seem to have any. He hated this room – it was like a strange little lair that Batman might like, but Caleb wasn't Batman, he was a teen-aged witch that was had been given the extremely bad misfortune to have been born into this shitty curse. Five families, running from religious persecution in England, landing in a New World that was supposed to be for new hopes and new dreams, and finding that they had to hide just as much _here_ as there. Instead of hiding in basements in England houses, fearful of being caught for their witchcraft, his ancestors had carved out a niche beneath their first homesteads and hid there, until John Putnum got a little too bold and got them caught. 

“John has brought this on us!” 

He bolted up, startled, and watched in shock as a man hurried down the stone stairs, brows furrowed, looking furious. The man was tall, his blond hair half falling out of a ponytail it was tied into, and though he didn't look quite right, the man looked... _remarkably_ like Pogue. 

“Pogue?” Caleb asked, confused. 

The man didn't even glance at him, he just kept marching down the stairs, furiously. “We are now in danger of death because he could not keep himself from showing off!” 

“Hello?” He called, frowning as he stepped closer to the other man. 

But the man still didn't respond, he just threw himself down on one of the bench seats, the one that Pogue usually sat on, arms crossed, furious. 

“I am aware of that.” Another voice said, and another man stepped down the stairs, at a slightly less huffy pace – a man that looked so much like Caleb himself that he couldn't keep from crying out in surprise. “What I want to know, my friend, is what you think we should do about it?” 

“ _What the fuck?_ ” Caleb breathed. 

“It's your fault.” 

He spun around to face the new voice, and gaped at Chase, who smirked slightly at him – and walked towards him. 

And then through him. 

Caleb gasped, pressing his fingers against his own chest, shocked, terrified that he'd turned into a ghost of something, but no, he seemed as solid as he ever had been. Spinning around, he watched as Chase continued to walk forward, actually walking through the wooden bench that Caleb had been sitting on a moment before, then stood in the centre of the fire itself, not burning, completely untouched by the flames. 

“ _John_ ,” the man that looked like Pogue snarled, and bolted up to his feet. 

Which was when Caleb realized that he _had_ been wrong, this was not Chase Collins, Chase Pope, whatever he wanted to be called. His hair was longer, curled lightly around his ears and his jaw, and he wore a carefully tailored vest over a collared shirt and tie. This wasn't the man he was trying to prove was real, he was John Putnum. 

The man that had started the beginning of the end for their Covenant. 

“Oh calm yourself, Goodwife Parry,” he drawled, smirking at the furious looking ancestor of Pogue, looking even more pleased when the Parry spluttered at the insult. “I'm still the fifth of your line, stop acting like I am an enemy of the lines. I am still your friend. In either case, _this is your fault_. If you had simply embraced our powers, as I have been recommending for years, then we would be _ruling_ this new world as kings. Instead, you act as though we were mere men. We are not men-- We are _gods_.” 

“John...” Caleb's ancestor stepped forward. “You have to understand what you have done. You have brought death on us.” 

“We could kill those judges, William!” He cried, waving his hands, frustrated. “It would take no effort! We could wipe this incident from the minds of those in the town if you wish, or simply show them who we are and finally take our proper place in this town! We are _powerful_.” 

“And that power will _kill_ us.” Parry said, fiercely, furious. 

“Eventually.” He agreed, shaking his head, and held his hands out towards him, as though trying to offer him something. “But we could actually _enjoy_ our lives, here.” 

“John, that is no reason...” William Danvers replied softly, stepping closer to him. 

Caleb slumped to sit on the low bench that he usually sat on, eyes wide and confused. This was so strange, so... bizarre. But what was truly strange, was the fact that he believed that this may actually be what had happened. The Book of Damnation was vague about what had occurred, when John Putnum was labeled a witch and killed by the law in Ipswich. But this might be true. 

This might actually be what had happened. 

“William, you essentially are holding us prisoners in this place!” He cried, angrily, frustrated. “We have to stay in this damnable cave when we want to use our powers, and lie and pretend to be like everyone else when we are among the others! I cannot live like this a moment longer, William. I need to be free. I need to have my powers at my disposal.” 

“So you tried to entice the children to write in the _Book of Damnation_?!” Parry roared, angrily. 

John laughed, shaking his head. “You know that means nothing.” 

“Excepting that they _reported_ us!” 

“They reported _me_.” He said, firmly, crossing his arms, shaking his head. “Do not worry, my brothers, I have felt your magic twisting around me as I stand on the witness stand... even now, as my body languishes away in a jail cell, I can feel your spells. Your names have not been found. They will never find you.” 

Caleb swallowed, and stood, shifting closer to the fire. Now that he was closer, he realized that he felt as much of an _image_ as John Putnum was, because he felt no heat from the flames. All the same, he shifted closer to this image of a familiar man, a man that he had learned to hate since he was a child, and realized that he seemed less of a monster than he had always sort of assumed he was. John Putnum was giving his own ancestor the same arguments that he had heard from his own Covenant Brothers a thousand times before. Maybe Chase's ancestor hadn't been a twisted witch like he'd always been told by a grumpy Gorman Twoberry. 

But his descendent... 

Chase himself was still a twisted son of a bitch. His ancestor might not have been the monster they'd been told that he was, but Chase had still tried to kill him. 

“This is not what we want, John.” William said, quietly. 

“But you'll let it happen.” He said, smiling slightly. 

“William?” Parry asked, frowning. 

“If we let them simply include John in the list of the witches,” William said, slowly, “Then they will not look at us. We will be ignored, because they will redirect their focus to him, and to the things that he has done. We will be safe.” 

Pogue's ancestor gaped at him. “William!” 

“Hm. You didn't know about your brother's plan, did you?” John smirked, shaking his head. “Our dear, dear William will do anything to keep that damned _Covenant of Silence_ intact. I am going to die, my friends. Please, say my farewells to our brothers Garwin and Simms, will you? And do not think that your young, pregnant wives will be the only ones with heirs.” He looked over at William, smirking. “In the town, there is a woman carrying my child. I’m sure you're clever enough to find her, if you truly wish to _destroy_ me, but if you _ever_ cared about your brothers, William Danvers, you will let my son live.” 

Caleb knew the look of regret in his ancestor's eyes. It was the same look he saw in his own eyes in the mirror, the last few weeks. He'd killed a man that had tried to kill him – a man that _had_ been his friend. And he regretted it. 

William regretted what was about to happen, too. 

“We cannot just let him _die_ , William!” Parry howled. “He may have brought hell down on us, but he is our _brother_!” 

“We have no choice.” William said, with genuine regret. 

“Because you have to pick up the pieces of what you have caused,” John Putnum said, smiling faintly. “Do you understand now, Caleb?” 

He jumped, alarmed, gaping at the man. 

John Putnum was looking back at him, seriously and calmly. 

And he _wasn't_ John Putnum anymore, he was Chase Collins instead, serious and calm. 

Caleb's eyes snapped open. 

\--- 

Using was getting so very easy, now. Caleb was starting to think that it was really _too_ easy, because it just went so simply. 

The flames were fading out of his eyes as he slipped out of his bed, and Reid, who had been curled up beside him in his bed when he'd woken up, just sighed heavily and kept sleeping. He could feel the lingering traces of magic still cloying in the air, from the spell that Reid had woven around them both – to wake the blond the moment that Caleb tried to get out of bed. But his power was stronger than his still-un-ascended dear friend, and he could overpower his spell. 

He hesitated, then squeezed Reid's shoulder slightly, and padded out of his room. 

The house was silent, still and quiet. The hems of his flannel pajama pants were brushing against the hardwood floor as he walked, which seemed oddly comforting and _real_. He'd had bad dreams the night before, strange dreams, and yeah, as he walked, he pinched his arm, a few times, praying that he wasn't still dreaming. 

But he was awake. 

Maybe it would be better if he was dreaming, so long as there were no more incidents of Chase. He could stand a nice cheerful dream like he used to have in the old days. Supermodels eating ice cream off his chest or some shit. 

Cracking open his mother's bedroom door, as quietly as he could, he peered inside, quietly. 

Evelyn Danvers was laying spread out on the massive bed that she had once shared with his father, dwarfed by the sheer enormity of the room and the bed itself. Her dark hair was spread out like the wings of a downed sparrow across her dusty rose silk pillow, lips parted as she breathed, her mascara slightly smudged under her eyes. She was beautiful and fragile, and he wished he could just curl up beside her in bed like he had when he was little, and his father had been moved to the Homestead house, his death faked. He'd been a child, scared and confused by his father's alarming decay, and he'd crawled under those cool silk sheets and drew strength from his mother's warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. 

But he couldn't do that anymore, he couldn't act as though his mother could actually make this better, and he slowly closed the door again. 

He didn't know what to do, now, but he couldn't hurt his poor mother anymore. She'd lost his father twice, she couldn't lose him. It would break his poor fragile mother. It was as though she was made of glass, already fractured a thousand times before, and if that glass took one more hit, it would shatter. 

Padding downstairs, he headed for the kitchen, and opened the fridge, peering inside for something to eat. Settling on a Styrofoam container of the left over Chinese he'd had for dinner a couple days ago, he leaned back, closing the door. 

Then cried out in surprise, dropping the container. 

“Well. That was a waste of good food.” 

Caleb gaped at Chase, stunned. He was standing beside the kitchen island as though it was the most normal thing in the world, as though he had been there his whole life. Chase had never been in this house, but he looked so _comfortable_. 

“Wh-what are you...” He gaped at him. “...I'm not dreaming.” 

“No. You're not.” He smirked. 

“But you're _here_!” Caleb cried, shocked, stumbling back, his lower back bumping into the edge of the counter. “I'm not sleeping, how - ?” 

“Why would you think you'd need to be _dreaming_?” Chase laughed, stepping closer to him. 

Caleb tried to get even further away from him, expecting some sort of violence. 

Rather than attacking him, Caleb abruptly knelt down on the ground instead, calmly picking up the remains of the Chinese food, cleaning up the mess that Caleb had made. Straightening, he ignored the way that Caleb jumped again and dropped the food into the garbage can, dusting his hands off. “There we go. Much better. You've made a mess, Caleb.” 

“I... I...” he gaped at him, confused and flustered. 

“Oh Caleb.” He smirked, and Chase went into the fridge again, humming as he gathered up some of the food from inside, then really went about making himself at home, pulling a pot out of one of the cupboards, and began cooking, humming. “You really would fall apart without me here to keep you together.” 

“...what?” He gaped at him. 

Chase looked up, arching a brow. “You would crash and burn without me.” 

“I almost crashed and burned _because_ of you!” He shouted at him. 

“Shhh....” the other man left the cooking, and stepped closer to Caleb, eyes flaring abruptly when Caleb tried to get away, stilling him immediately. Caleb could feel the magic curled around his arms and legs like invisible fingers, holding him tightly, and though his own eyes flared, the spells remained. Chase was as powerful as he was – but Chase had more practice. “Keep shouting like that, and you'll wake your mother and the Garwin boy, and what good would that do? Your mother would start crying again, and your brother would just have his suspicion that you're insane confirmed.” 

“I am _not_ insane.” He hissed, angrily. “This is all your fault!” 

“Of course it is, darling.” He smirked, amused. “Only you've forgotten that it's your fault, long run, because _I_ only exist because _you_ exist.” 

“...what?” Caleb said, slowly, confused. 

Chase shook his head, laughing softly, and went back to the stove, pouring milk into whatever it was he was cooking. “It's a good thing you're hot, golden boy, because if it were just for your brains, I do believe you wouldn't have got much attention. But I fell in love with your stupid little martyr self. Beautiful idiot.” 

“Fuck you.” He snapped, bitterly, fingers still curled on the edge of the counter, trembling slightly. 

“Mmm... I think I’ve told you I’d rather fuck _you_ before.” 

Caleb shook his head, looking away. 

And then Chase was abruptly in front of him, holding his chin, and laughed, “Oh, come now, pouty princess, look at me. Let's see those beautiful eyes. Ah... there we are. Beautiful. Now are you going to give me a smile? No, I suppose that's a bit too much to ask for, isn't it.” 

“Fuck. You.” He snapped. 

“Mmm... sure. I’m willing to try new things for you,” he smirked, then he was gone as abruptly as he had been in front of him, and was standing in front of the stove, humming lightly as he kept stirring the pot. “I know you like spicy, but I’m thinking I’m going to make this batch a little more mild. After all, you've been having some pretty bad dreams lately, maybe we need to cut back on the spices to keep you from such.... unpleasantness.” 

“You're the reason for my nightmares!” He howled, confused. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to be _quiet_?!” Chase hissed, his hand abruptly over Caleb's mouth, pressed tightly over his lips. 

He keened, alarmed, eyes wide. 

“Mmm... I think I’ve told you a million times before. Caleb...” he purred, his voice low and rough, smirking. “You are better off when you are seen, and not heard. Remember?” 

Caleb gaped at him, confused. 

“Mmm... I know. I’m your best friend. Your only friend.” Chase murmured, pressing closer to him, and trailed his lips lightly down the other boy’s jaw. “I am your guide, your confidant, your... only companion. The brother you never got to have. But you really ought to listen to me, remember?” 

He shook Chase’s hand off, and gasped, “What areyou _talking_ about?! You – you tried to kill me! You tried to get me to will my _power_ to you! Three weeks ago! I’ve only _known_ you for four weeks!” 

“Oh... _Caleb...”_ he laughed, smiling. “Did you hit your head, at your ascension?” 

“...what?” 

“Of course I was _there_.” Chase smiled up at him, seeming strangely innocent. “I'm always there. I love you, stupid. Always have.” 

“You tried to get me to will my power to you...” Caleb breathed, shaking his head. 

“And what good does power do for a man that doesn't _exist_?” He laughed, and abruptly he was standing at the stove again as though nothing had ever happened, still humming that same fucking song he'd been humming along with before. “I was thinking that I should add corn to the chowder this time, sweeten it up a little, this batch of clams just isn't as sweet - “ 

“Caleb?” 

“ - as they normally are, which is a bit of a shame.” 

Chase just kept talking, as though it was perfectly normal to keep going even though there was someone else in the room, an intruder in this strange _scene_ of his. 

“Caleb?” 

It was Reid, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, confused. He was wearing just the pair of Caleb's flannel pajama pants he'd been wearing when he went to bed in the first place, blond hair sticking in every direction as he rubbed one of his eyes, confused looking. “What the hell... how did you get out of bed without me noticing?” 

“What do you think, Caleb?” Chase continued on, as though Reid wasn't there. “Corn?” 

“Caleb?” Reid said again, stepping closer, then let out a grunt of displeasure, grumbling, “What the fuck? Why is there Chinese food all over the fucking _floor_?” 

He looked down at the ground, confused. Chase had cleaned that up... 

But there were noodles squished between Reid's toes, and he looked entirely displeased by the mess. 

Gaping at the floor for a moment, Caleb finally shook himself as though from sleep, and finally yelped, “Reid! Reid... he's _here_!” 

“Who is?” Reid frowned, grabbing for the roll of paper towel on the counter, and wiping noodles off of his feet. 

“Well, since you're refusing to answer me, I’m going to make chowder however the hell I want to make it, because I love chowder too, you greedy little brat, and we're having corn.” Chase said, cheerfully, laughing as he went to the freezer to get a bag of frozen corn. 

“He's right _there_!” Caleb howled, waving at the stove, where Chase was pouring corn into the pot. “Chase!” 

“...of course he is.” Reid sighed. 

He gaped at his friend, confused. “Reid? _Reid_. He's right fucking _there_!” 

“He can't see me, Caleb,” the man at the stove called, cheerfully, humming again as he stirred. “I'm not real, remember? Only you can see me.” 

“He's – no!” 

“Caleb...” Reid groaned, shaking his head, frowning. 

“ _No_!” 

Caleb darted forward, grabbing Chase's shoulders, and shaking him, violently. “You son of a bitch, you're right _here_ , show yourself so he knows I’m not insane!” 

Chase just grinned at him. 

“What the _hell_ , man?” Reid grabbed Caleb's shoulders, jerking him back from the stove. “What the hell is wrong with you? You look absolutely insane right now, you know that? Come on. Bed. Now. We are going to go to fucking _bed_. And tomorrow we are going to talk to the other guys.” 

“But he's right there... he's right fucking _there_...” 

“Mmhmm, I know.” 

Chase laughed softly, shaking his head, and went back to stirring the pot. “I'll bring you some chowder later, darling, when it's done.” 

Reid was dragging him towards the bed, though, and Caleb, frustrated and feeling like he was about to burst into tears, followed his friend. He felt weak, like all of the power had been drained out of his body, and for once, he didn't feel like using. He felt like curling in a ball and crying. 

So he followed him. 

Maybe Reid was right. Maybe he was crazy. 


	2. Chapter 2

  


 “What the _hell_ , man?”

Pogue slumped down in the armchair in the overly stuffy living room that was in the middle of the Danvers mansion. It was too fancy to ever be comfortable, and smelled heavily of the ghosts of a thousand packs of cigarettes that Evelyn had smoked in this room since her husband's death had been faked so very long ago. It was uncomfortable – but it was close to Caleb, and at that moment, that was what mattered. “I don't know. I _really_ don't know.” 

“Is this what's gonna happen to us?” Reid frowned, sitting beside Tyler on the little chesterfield across from the chair Pogue was sitting in. “All of us? When we ascend?” 

“Maybe.” Tyler frowned, crossing his arms. 

“Except that none of our fathers went nuts like he did.” Pogue reminded him, frowning. 

“Well, he might not be nuts...” Reid tried. 

“You're kidding, right?” Tyler scoffed. “He thinks he has a girlfriend, which we all know is bullshit, cause Caleb is stupidly unpopular with girls, and he thinks he has _John Putnum's_ descendent is trying to kill him. Or something. According to Reid, he thinks that this asshole is making him _soup_. Guy has flipped his fucking _lid_!” 

“It sounds bad,” Pogue agreed, quietly. 

“Do you think it _was_ the ascension?” Reid said, again, frustrated. “I mean... could that be what it is? Something is making him go nuts because of the magic? Because if it's the magic... can we get rid of it, now?” 

“We can't get rid of the magic.” Pogue grumbled. 

“Sure we can,” Tyler grumbled. “We can will our power away.” 

“Oh yeah, that sounds like an awesome idea,” Reid snapped. “Let's will our power away. And what happens _then_? Oh, right, we all die.” 

“Well, we wouldn't go crazy.” Tyler smirked at him. 

“You're an asshole.” He snapped. 

“This isn't helping.” Pogue sighed, heavily, running his hand through his hair, frustrated. “Caleb is our friend. Our brother. Caleb is our water point of our damn little pentagram. We have to figure out what's wrong with him.” 

“He's gone nuts. Case closed.” Tyler said, crossing his arms. 

“Tyler...” he leaned forward. 

Reid punched his friend in the shoulder. “Asshole. Fuck you. Caleb is our golden boy. We gotta figure out what's actually going on. I mean, locking him up in the looney bin isn't going to do it! He's just going to be locked up and crazy then, and then we ascend and _we_ go nuts, too!” 

“Maybe he's telling the truth?” Pogue suggested, abruptly. 

“You're kidding, right?” Tyler blinked. 

“Well... I mean, it _could_ be.” He said, finally, crossing his arms, huffing slightly. “I mean... suppose, for the sake of argument... that he's telling the truth. That there was a witch here, who was maybe John Putnum's heir, and that he was double blooded, like Caleb says he was. What would he do?” 

“I dunno... depends on what he wants.” Reid shrugged. 

“Okay... if it was _you_.” Pogue pointed at him. “What would you do, if you were a powerful witch that wanted Caleb and didn't get him?” 

Reid blinked. “...I dunno, fuck with his head?” 

“ _Exactly.”_ Pogue said, firmly. 

“Oh come on...” Tyler groaned, shaking his head. “No way. That doesn't make sense. He's just going to _show_ up and fuck with Caleb's head and somehow make us all believe that we're not remembering this because he's fucking with all of us? No witch is that powerful!” 

“Yeah, but...” Reid leaned forward. “Caleb said he was double blooded...” 

“No witch.” Tyler said again. “Is _that_ powerful.” 

“They could be...” Pogue said, frowning slightly as he ran his hand through his hair again. 

“ _No_ , because in order to remove himself from _all_ of our minds, he would have to be mindnumbingly powerful, _or_ he would have been aged _so_ old already that he'd be eighty something already!” 

“...what if he didn't take himself out of all of our minds?” Reid said, abruptly. 

“What?” Tyler frowned at him. 

“...what if he _didn't_ take himself our of our heads?” The blond said again, frowning as he considered that for a long moment. “...what if he just put himself _into_ Caleb's?” 

The other two witches gaped at him for a long few moments. 

“That's sick.” Pogue said, finally. 

“Twisted.” Tyler agreed. 

“But brilliant.” The biker murmured, finally, crossing his arms. “That's... sick. And depraved, and messed up, and-- probably the most disturbingly brilliant idea I’ve ever heard of.” 

“Yeah,” Reid frowned. “But is it true?” 

\--- 

Caleb had a pillow pressing over his head, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tried to hide from the world, from the man that was sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I don't know why you're hiding from me, Caleb,” Chase was saying, cheerfully. “After all, I’m your oldest friend. You love me. I promise.” 

“I don't _know_ you!” He howled, but his voice was muffled by the pillow and the blankets that he had pulled up to his chin, shaking as he tried to keep hiding within the bed itself. He didn't want to be out there, he didn't want to see the man sitting beside him, acting as though nothing was wrong. “You showed up a month ago and tried to kill me!” 

“Of course I did,” there was laughter, then the blankets shifted. 

Caleb stiffened, eyes wide in his dark pillow induced cave that he was hiding in. 

But despite his panic, there was movement behind him, and Caleb’s breath hitched as he pressed his face into his pillow, the chest of the other man pressed against his back, and Chase's arms slid around his waist, holding him close. 

“I don't want this,” Caleb whispered. 

“Yes, you do.” Chase murmured, his lips pressed lightly against the back of Caleb's neck, and said, softly, “Of course you do. You always do; you always have. Ever since you were a child, you’ve wanted me.” 

He shook his head, desperately. 

“Yes you have.” He promised, his palms pressed against Caleb's stomach. 

Caleb trembled in his grip, feeling like he had been dunked in ice water. He felt cold and frozen, solid and helpless. He had thought, at first, that Chase was using on him, but no, there was no magic woven around him. There was no magic holding him in place, the other witch had no power around him, the only power that was keeping him still were the arms around his waist. He was _scared_. 

But Chase didn't treat him as insane. 

He didn't understand. 

“Don't you understand, Caleb?” Chase's fingers were brushing across his stomach, quietly. “I'm not really here; I’m your _imaginary friend.”_

He swallowed, hard. “How can you be...” 

“Easy.” Chase's fingers shifted under the flannel edge of the other's pajama shirt, and gently stroked the other's skin. “You're a classic case, Caleb. A sweet little boy whose father decayed too quickly because of a power that he was cursed with, a power that he handed down to his son long before he actually woke up into it at thirteen. You were seven years old and you knew that you were going to turn into a mangled old man like your father. And your mother shut down, she became an alcoholic mess that started to pay too much attention to you; how you look like your father.

“You were such a fucked up little boy, Caleb. You know it's true.” 

Caleb swallowed, hard. Chase, frighteningly, was right. He was screwed up. He had been a very, very messed up child. 

“And so, you made a friend. A friend for just you, Caleb. A friend that would love you all the time, no matter what everyone else did; a friend who could keep you safe from your mother, who would talk to you when no one else would. You barely ever saw those _brothers_ of yours, and you were being tutored back in those days, remember, instead of going to school. You needed me, then, so you created me. And I did exactly what you wanted, Caleb... I _loved_ you.” 

There were so many things he said that Caleb had never told anyone. He had never told his brothers, had never told the other witches, had never told his mother. 

And he'd certainly never told these things to Chase. 

Caleb was _shaking_ , now. His whole body seemed to be trembling, and even though he tried to calm down, to breathe, it didn't seem to be working. Chase's palm was pressing against his stomach, as though holding him in place, and for one brief moment, he was actually _grateful_ for the contact. He wasn't alone. 

Maybe this was why he had created... 

No. 

_No_ , he couldn't have _created_ Chase, he remembered Chase, remembered him laughing as they played foosball at Nicky's, remembered him sitting in class beside him. It wasn't something he'd created. He'd _met_ Chase a month ago. 

“No.” Caleb whispered. “No, I didn't make you up. I met you. You tried to take my power. You wanted me to will my power to you.” 

“Why would I want your power?” Chase murmured. 

“Because you wanted to stop the aging...” 

“More power would never stop the aging, I know that as well as you do. Of course I do. I know everything you know. If I had more power, I would just age faster. Caleb... I’m only as powerful as you are. I’m a witch because you wanted your friend to be a witch.” 

Caleb whimpered. “But... Chase...” 

“It's _okay_ ,” he murmured, stroking his stomach, still. “I don't want you to be scared, Caleb, you're my friend. I love you, remember? You're my best friend. And I had the the things you wanted -- the things you wished you could be. I had guts. I can be a dick sometimes, because you wanted me to fight back. You wanted me to be smart and funny and... and sometimes I think it was a bad idea for you to have given me your mother's temper. But... of course, you wanted a friend that was like a brother, didn't you? I’m your brother, Caleb. You love me.” 

“No... I don't...” 

“Trust me.” Chase whispered, and his words seemed to slip around him like oil on the surface of the water. “You love me.” 

And maybe he was right. 

\--- 

There was magic curled around his fingers, now. 

Caleb swallowed, watching as magic that wasn't _his_ visibly shifted around his hand, between his digits, stroked his palm, then slid smoothly around his wrist like a cuff. He watched the black smoke, wondering if this was what magic had always looked like, if he had ever just taken the time to watch it. But he'd never watched. Never paid enough attention to, anyway. 

The magic around his wrist seemed to solidify, and became a smooth black bracelet. 

“You like it?” 

Caleb glanced up, swallowing a little as he did. Chase was sitting across from him on the bed, smiling softly. It wasn't a devious smile, anymore, it was sort of soft. 

“It's... interesting.” 

“I wish I knew why you'd forgotten all about me.” Chase shifted closer, smirking. “Maybe it was the ascension...” 

“I didn't forget about you. I know about you. I know perfectly well about you.” He said, sharply. “I remember you, Chase. I remember you attacking Pogue, I remember you hurting Sarah...” 

“I told you, Caleb, Sarah doesn't exist.” He rolled his eyes. “I mean, it’s bad enough that you made an imaginary friend to take care of you, you made an imaginary _girlfriend_ , too? Seriously. An imaginary girlfriend. That's sort of lame, Caleb.” 

“I didn't - “ 

He paused, blinking slightly. There were flames licking up the curtains where they hung beside his tall, thin windows. Transfixed, Caleb stared at the windows, shocked. Flames were starting to rise, rapidly, crackling loudly as they hungrily tried to consume the dark velvet. Chase didn't seem to notice, but he wasn't sure that Chase would notice anyway, because after all, the man laying beside him on his narrow bed was a fire elemental. He might not have found something like flames in the bedroom unusual. 

The flames spread, out from the curtains to the walls, licking at the ceilings. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling started to tremble, glass beads rattling against each other. It sounded a bit like an earthquake was rumbling through the house, only it wasn't, it was fire. 

“Because I think Reid might have been right, when he said that this 'Sarah' creation of yours was just a girl version of him.” Chase was saying, relaxing into the pillows. 

Caleb glanced at Chase, then back up at the fire. “...do you not see that?” 

“Because after all, he _wants_ you. He has wanted you for years. He doesn't know, of course, that I’ve got you, but still.” He sat up, ignoring everything Caleb had said as though it had never been said. “So I think maybe you just took the person who wanted you, and somehow made him into a chick so that society wouldn't like... freak out. Which is stupid. Who the hell cares if you sleep with a guy? I certainly don't.” 

The wires for the chandelier finally burned through, and the thing crashed to the floor with all the force it could probably muster, glass beads flying everywhere across the hardwood floor. 

Caleb yelped in surprise, jumping, but when he tried to leap off the bed – _the room was on fire he had to run he had to get out of this burning room_ – the black magic _ring_ that Chase had created around his wrist tightened. His wrist seemed pinned to the headboard, like it was magical handcuffs instead of just a bracelet or something, and the harder Caleb tried to pull, the tighter it constricted around him. It tightened harder and harder, constricting around his wrist to the point where he could feel his bones grind hard against each other, and he was crying out in pain. “Chase, oh _god_ , Chase!” 

Chase swung his leg over Caleb's hip, and pinned him down. “You will never be free of me, Caleb.” 

“I don't need to be _free_ , fuck, the room is on _fire_!” 

Flames were licking at the blankets around them, now, and Caleb was absolutely sure that he could feel his hair starting to singe, the bitter scent of burning hair starting to tinge the air around them, even over the smell of the burning velvet and the painted wood smoke. His wrist was starting to throb now, from the band that was tight around it, cutting off blood flow, and the flames were starting to reach his skin. “ _Chase_!” 

“I will _consume_ you.” He breathed. 

And then the beam over the bed broke, and fell onto the bed, flames engulfing them both. 

Caleb bolted up in bed, startled, fighting to draw in even a single breath. He felt like he couldn't manage to even draw in a breath, and finally, when he did suck in some air, he felt as though his lungs were scorched, as though he actually _had_ been in a fire. Shaking, he just bent double for a moment, sucking in air, just trying to breathe. Finally, he slumped back into the pillows, and realized that he was not alone in the bed – Reid was laying beside him, breathing slowly through parted lips, and beside him, sprawled on his back, Chase's chest rose and fall, slowly, as he slept. 

What was going _on_? 

\--- 

“Why are you wearing a school uniform?” 

Caleb glanced over his shoulder at his 'brother', the blond electrical witch, arching a brow. He ignored the glower on his friend’s face, and continued tying his tie. “Because Spenser's has uniforms, last I checked.” 

“You are not going to school, Caleb.” Reid sighed, throwing back the blankets, and stepping out of the bed. 

“I think I have the right to go to school. My mom pays more than enough tuition for me to actually attend,” he said, idly, and glanced back at the bed when the blond vacated it. Chase wasn't there, now, though he had been when he'd woken. He was starting to get used to just seeing the witch in random places, at random times, and often when Reid was trying to talk to him, but Chase wasn't there, now. He hadn't decided if Chase was trying to drive him insane, now, or if he was just insane to begin with. He couldn't decide. “So yes, Reid, I’m going to school.” 

The slight blond slid his arms around Caleb's waist, hugging him from behind. 

He closed his eyes, and leaned back into Reid, slightly. 

“Look, Caleb... we need to figure out what's going on, okay? So maybe school isn't a good idea until we figure out who this Chase guy is.” 

Caleb hesitated, and pressed his hands over Reid's arms, holding him in place. “You don't think I made him up, then?” 

“I'm not sure.” He murmured, softly. 

“Neither am I.” Caleb laughed, breathlessly, closing his eyes. 

“So... is he an imaginary friend, a delusion, or an evil witch that's planting himself in your head, you think?” Reid asked, gently, still idly stroking Caleb's stomach, holding him close. “Cause me and the guys have been trying to figure that out. I mean, we don't remember this Chase guy, even though you say he was a new student and everything. And we did some research! We checked the school files and everything. There’s nothing about a Chase Collins.” 

“Of course,” he murmured, closing his eyes, starting to feel exhausted. 

“But we also checked the Book of Damnation, so... yeah. So I think we have a few ideas.” 

Caleb opened his eyes. “Excuse me?” 

“C'mon, come sit down.” He slowly released Caleb, and tugged him back towards the bed. 

He glanced at his alarm clock, and figured that at this rate, he wasn't going to _get_ to school. But maybe talking about this first was going to be important. So Caleb followed him, and settled on the edge of his bed with his friend, considering Reid carefully. 

Reid looked _worried_. His blond hair was rumpled, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Caleb was used to Reid being sleek, calm, calculated and in control. Right now, his friend looked-- skittish, actually. A little skittish like Caleb himself felt. 

The blond folded his legs Indian style as he settled on the blankets, hands resting on his ankles, and considered Caleb seriously, then said, “Remember when you said that John Putnum had an heir, Hagan Pope, and that his descendent was this Chase Collins guy?” 

He hesitated, then nodded. 

“Turns out you _could_ be right.” Reid huffed slightly. “We checked. Birth records and all that... Hagan Pope was born _eleven months_ after his father was killed. About eight and half months after John Putnum died.” 

“Oh.” Caleb breathed, heart surging. It was _hope_ that sang in his chest. Maybe he _wasn't_ insane. 

“But,” he said, quietly. “We're pretty sure Hagan wasn't a witch, so...” 

“Right.” He murmured, closing his eyes again. 

Reid shifted a little closer to him, squeezing his shoulder, gently. “So you could be right, Chase Collins, if he actually existed, could have been a witch. If he exists... he _could_ be putting yourself in your head.” 

“So it could be an evil witch?” He asked, hopefully. 

“Maybe.” Reid looked guarded. 

Caleb bit his lip. “But you don't actually think that's what's going on, do you?” 

“....no.” He agreed. 

“You think I’m nuts.” Caleb murmured. 

“ _No_ , I don't. But I think that you've been a little... screwed up, by the Ascension. I mean, Caleb... you crashed your car outside the Putnum barn, and ended up burning the place down during your ascension. None of us saw it, none of us saw what happened. None of us have ever ascended before. I mean, the firefighters said that you had head injuries, remember? The crash threw you through the _windshield_. So if you crashed through the windshield, then ascended while all injured and everything... maybe stuff got screwed up. I mean, Caleb... you thought your father willed his power to you. Your dad died _last year_.” 

He flinched, and took a deep breath. “But...” 

“And this _girlfriend_ character?” Reid nudged his friend's knee. “Me with knockers.” 

“Oi, Sarah was not--”

“Hey, my grandmother's name really _was_ Sarah.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “And you _know_ I’d be a hot chick, and...” 

Caleb sighed softly, picking at his blankets, quietly. 

“C'mon, Caleb, I’m not trying to freak you out or anything, but.... with a combination of head injuries and magic, and... I dunno, sexual repression...” 

He snorted, and flopped back into the pillows, heavily, closing his eyes again. “I don't feel brain damaged.” 

“I don't think you _are_ ,” he rolled his eyes. “But...” 

“Yeah, I know.” He murmured. 

Reid crawled up beside him, laying down beside him, quietly. “I'm just trying to figure this out, Caleb. To see how to help you the best, you know?” 

“So what, you can _fix_ me?” 

He sighed, and idly brushed Caleb's bangs back, gently. “That sounds a little awful, but...” 

“But you're trying to fix me,” Caleb said, softly. 

“We just want our old Caleb back.” Reid said, and gently kissed his cheek, trailing light kisses down his jaw. “We want you to be _you_ again... I want you to be the same old Caleb with a martyr complex and a golden boy issue who _wants_ me.” 

“I didn't want you before.” He snorted. 

“You did so,” Reid grinned, mischievously. “You just forgot cause of the head damage.” 

Caleb swatted at his friend's shoulder, laughing softly. 

He felt, for a moment, like _himself_. Like he was normal again. 

It would never last. 

But for this moment, he really felt like _himself_. 

Only he wasn't really sure who _he_ was. 

\--- 

“Caleb, my sweet? Is that you?” 

He hesitated at the door of the living room, and slowly stepped into the room. The living room was a room that made him feel on edge whenever he was inside it. It was dark, almost oppressive, caging him in with its ancient opulence. The fire crackling in the fireplace seemed like a warning; the stuffed animals scattered around the room seemed to be a threat. He was sure that any strangers who walked in would notice only the riches, the wealth inherent in the age of the furnishings and the decorations. What Caleb saw, when he looked around, were the shadows that lingered in the corners. 

He had no idea _why_ this room unnerved him. But it did. It always had. “Yes, mother, it's me.” 

His mother was settled in her usual wing chair, sitting in it like it was her throne, a cigarette dangling from her fingers, the butt of the cigarette stained red by her crimson lipstick. Evelyn's hair was neatly coiffed, as if she were about to step onto a filming set for a silver screen movie. She was a beautiful woman, Caleb knew that. 

She almost didn't look _real_. Like a porcelain doll. 

She smiled, and held her hands out to him. “Oh my son... come here.” 

He stepped forward, quietly, taking his mother's hands, delicately. Her cigarette still burned in her hand, and she stunk of whiskey and rosewater perfume. 

“Look at you,” she said, softly, smiling. 

Caleb shifted a little, nervously. His mother always treated him like this, like he wasn't her son. Like he was... like he was his father. He was used to it. But it unnerved him, all the same. 

“You look so much like him,” she whispered. 

“Get your hands off him, harpy.” Chase snapped, and Caleb jumped, startled. He looked sharply at the door as the other boy marched into the room, brows furrowed, teeth bared in a sort of snarl. “Leave Caleb the fuck alone.” 

“Chase - ?” He said, confused. 

Chase shoved at Evelyn's shoulders, and Caleb cried out, horrified. She was an alcoholic agoraphobic that sometimes made him nervous, but she was his _mother_ , and he _loved_ her. He didn't live in the dorms with his friends because he was taking care of his mother. Someone _had_ to take care of Evelyn. But she didn't seem to feel the hit, or react to Chase's violence in the slightest. She did, however, drop her hands from Caleb's, and rested her hands in her lap, just smiling up at him, softly. 

“Oh Caleb,” she sighed softly. “Sit with me?” 

He hesitated. 

“Don't do it.” Chase said, firmly, and took Caleb's arm, tugging on it. “Let me.” 

Caleb opened his mouth, confused, wondering what the other was talking about, then stopped dead, startled. Magic crackled up and down his spine, just for a moment, like Chase had just used, but his eyes weren't black, he hadn't felt him use. But something had changed – and he realized what it was, a moment later. He wasn't looking at Chase, who was tugging at his arm, anymore. He was holding his _own_ arm, staring at _himself_ , and he bolted back, startled, eyes wide. 

His own body looked at him with a sad, soft sort of expression. He looked tragic, which didn't make sense, but then his body moved, without him, stepping closer to Evelyn. 

“What... _what_...?!” Caleb gaped at his own body, then looked at the mirror over the fireplace, eyes widening. 

The face in the mirror wasn't his own. 

It was Chase's. 

He was looking at _Chase's_ face in the mirror, not his own. They had _switched_ , somehow, they were in different bodies. “What did you _do_?!” He howled, shocked. 

But the other witch wasn't answering. 

Not that question, anyway. 

He was kneeling at Evelyn's feet, holding her hands in his own, but they weren't Chase's hands, they were Caleb's, and Caleb trembled in the skin he'd been thrust into, clenching his jaw, tightly. Chase had no _right_ to use his body, to do whatever he wanted... 

Caleb shoved at the other's shoulder, furious. “ _Chase_! Get the fuck out of my body!” 

His body shuddered, slightly, but Chase just closed his borrowed eyes, and stayed where he was. 

“Give me my body back! Give me _back_!” 

Chase snapped Caleb's eyes open, and flames flew across his eyes, chased by black. Eyes dark as the night itself, he said, “I'm protecting you, asshole.” 

And then magic seemed to curl around Caleb in his borrowed body, and he was jerked away from the living room as though an elastic band had been wrapped around his waist, and he'd been jerked out of the room. He'd teleported before, using magic to bring himself from one place to another, and he usually sort of just made himself break into pieces in one place, then reform somewhere else. But this time, he really felt like he was on a bungee cord, and the cord had suddenly reached it's full length, then pulled taut, and jerked him back to wherever the bungee cord originated. 

In Chase's body, he was slammed onto his own bed, gasping for breath. Stunned, he lay there for a long moment, gasping. 

Reid shifted slightly, and turned the page in the book he was reading. 

Caleb gasped, and scrambled back from Reid, startled, shocked. The blond was laying on his bed, humming softly to himself as he read, and hadn't seemed to have seen him. Hesitating, Caleb crawled closer to his friend, and gently nudged his shoulder. “Reid?” 

The other boy didn't move, except to turn the page again. 

“Reid?” He said, again, starting to feel his heart sink. Was this what Chase felt like? Invisible? “Reid? Can you hear me?” 

The blond didn't react. 

Caleb felt his borrowed eyes flare black, and poured magic into Reid, trying to get him to realize that he was there. He tried to make the furniture move, to make disembodied winds ruffle the curtains, tried to get him to _realize that he was there_... 

His friend didn't move, didn't lift his head, didn't notice anything. 

“I'm right _here_!” He howled, pushing at his friend's shoulder again, trying to get him to move. “Fuck! _Reid_! I’m right _here_ , come on, listen, you have to be able to hear me!” 

Reid didn't move. 

Frustrated, he slid out of the bed, and stumbled for the bathroom, trembling. Looking at Chase's face staring back at him in the mirror made him shy away from the glass, shuddering slightly. He could see what Chase meant, when he said that they were brothers – they had the same dark hair, the same dark eyes, the same square jaws. But the face in the mirror was definitely _not_ his own, it wasn't who he _was_... 

The funny thing was, though, when he nervously examined his reflection, was that _this_ face looked more like the old photos of William than he thought his own reflection did. 

Letting out a long, shuddering sigh, Caleb slipped back out of the bathroom, considering his friend. Reid lay on the bed, quietly, reading. He padded closer to him, curiously, and touched his friend's shoulder again, not really surprised that Reid didn't react, again. Leaning closer, he considered what he was reading, brows furrowing, surprised. 

“Dissociative Identity Disorder...” He murmured, reading the title on the page aloud. 

His blood ran cold. 

“... _Chase_? _Chase?!_ ” He howled, and spun away from the bed, dashing down the hall. He clattered down the sweeping staircase, desperate, trying to get to his mother and the witch in his own body, then cried out in pain as he was stopped short. 

There were black smoke bindings around his wrists again, as though he'd been chained to the railings that swept down the sides of the staircases, and he felt as though his arms had been nearly ripped out of his sockets. His body still wanted to keep going, despite being stopped, and he strained against the invisible, magical bonds, howling at the other boy. “Chase! Fuck you, let me _go_ , let me _go_ , stay away from my _mother!_ ” 

There was no response. 

Caleb kept struggling, kept trying to get free, but the magic bonds around his wrists weren't releasing, and the more he struggled, the less freedom of movement he had. 

He slumped to sit on the hardwood stairs, shaking, shoulders jerking as he sobbed in frustration. 

Everything seemed to be stacking up against him. The ascension, Chase, Sarah, now this... Reid really thought he was crazy, he thought he was nuts... There was nothing he could do, he couldn't get away from Chase, Chase was taking over whatever was going on, and Caleb was helpless to get away from him. 

He didn't know how much longer it was before his hands abruptly dropped from the spread-eagled stretch he'd been held in. Looking up, he watched as his own body stepped slowly out of the living room, with an expression he wasn't sure he'd ever seen on his own face before, a haunted sort of broken look. Chase stepped closer to him in that borrowed body, and bent to gently cup Caleb's jaw. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I'm trying to protect you. I’ve always tried to protect you. That's what I’m for.” 

“What is going on, Chase?” Caleb whispered, voice cracking. “You're not my imaginary friend.” 

Chase, in Caleb's body, hesitated. “No,” he agreed, finally. 

“Then what...?” 

He pressed their foreheads together, gently, and Chase closed Caleb's eyes. “I'm you.” 

\--- 

Caleb picked carefully through the wreckage of the Putnum barn, careful to not step on a nail, or something. The barn was just ash and charred wood, an absolute mess. “What happened here?” 

“This is where being a witch started to make things... complicated.” Chase laughed softly, shaking his head. 

He glanced back at him, quietly. Chase was back in his own body again, which was a relief, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that something was _strange_. He wasn't sure if it was because of the book that Reid had been reading, or if was because of the trade of bodies that had gone on earlier, but something was just off. “What do you mean?” 

“Witches aren't quite like normal people, Caleb. Our brains are wired a litle differently, I think. I think it's because of the aging thing. We're not like other people.” 

“So?” He asked, kicking at what was left of an old plow. 

“So the Ascension messed everything up.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Chase sighed heavily, and held out a hand. “Come here.” 

Slowly, he headed towards the other witch, and took his hand, warily. The other squeezed his hand, smiling faintly, and Chase said softly, “I don't know you got the idea that I was evil. I’m not _evil_ , Caleb... but I’m not terribly nice, either, I suppose.” 

“What do you mean?” He frowned. 

“Sarah doesn't exist.” 

“I've started to figure that out. Reid says I crashed my car? That I hurt myself, maybe it's the head injury...” 

“Maybe.” Chase agreed, brushing his thumbs along the knuckles of Caleb's hands. “You did crash. The ascension... it had sort of been building all day. You were kind of skittish. It was dark, and you were driving a bit too fast... you often drive a bit too fast... but you did, and when we came around that corner, your car smashed into the tree. You were thrown out the windshield. And then, of course, it started to rain.” He smirked, almost deviously. “I got you inside, but... you ascended a few minutes later, and when you woke up after...” 

“Something was wrong.” Caleb guessed, starting to think he understood. 

“Something was wrong,” Chase confirmed, nodding. 

“What happened?” 

“You didn't see me. Of course, the place had just been hit by lightning, and it was on fire, but... I kept trying to get you out, and you didn't seem to _get_ it, you didn't _see_ me. It was strange.” 

“The first time I saw you, it was a dream.” 

“Well, I had to talk to you _somehow_.” He said, shaking his head slightly. “I kept trying to talk to you, kept shouting at you...” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “But you didn't see me. So I did what any good witch would do. I used magic, and I talked to you in your sleep.” 

“You told you that you were my imaginary friend.” He narrowed his eyes. 

“I wasn't lying.” He shook his head. 

“Chase.” He said, firmly. 

Chase took a deep breath, and shook his head. He dug in his back pocket for a moment, then flipped open his wallet, and offered Caleb his driver's license. 

Confused, Caleb frowned at the car, then his eyes widened. 

The photo was Chase's, it was the face of the man standing there in front of him. It made perfect sense, of course it was Chase's photo. But the _name_ wasn't right. Beside that photo, it said “Caleb William Danvers”. It had _Caleb's_ birthday, not Chase's. It was his own name, his own age, but the other's photo. 

“...what is this?” He hissed. 

“That's our ID.” 

“... _our_ ID?” 

“Ours.” Chase confirmed, quietly. 

\--- 

It was Tyler who called the others together. 

Pogue sank into the couch in his living room, frowning slightly as his brothers flopped down in the room as well, watching them. They'd chosen his apartment as the gathering place, because it was quiet and safe – no one else was going to come here, unless he invited them. And at the moment, he planned on inviting only his brothers. 

Tyler sighed, heavily, and tossed a file folder down onto the coffee table. 

“What's that?” Reid frowned, brows furrowed. 

“Remember what you said about... about multiple personalities?” 

Pogue scoffed softly, and shook his head. “I think you're nuts, I don't think Caleb has _multiple personalities_ , Reid.” 

“Then why was he treated for it in third grade?” Tyler asked, softly. 

Everyone froze. 

“.... _what_?” Pogue asked, gaping at them. 

Tyler sighed softly, and bent forward to pick up the file folder again, flipping it open. “When he was seven, a tutor reported the Danvers to Child Protective Services. They were worried about Caleb, thought that something was happening. They said he was acting... unusual.” 

“Unusual _how_? How did we not _know_ about this?!” Reid demanded. 

He hesitated, and nodded at the paperwork. “Apparently he was... jumpy. Nervous. You know he was home schooled, right? Or maybe he was taught by a tutor at home, anyway. Because his father was aging too fast. So Evelyn insisted on keeping him home, with her. So Caleb was being tutored, and the tutor said something seemed to change. That he had always been a quiet little boy, but suddenly he would forget big periods of his life, forget time, and every once in awhile, he'd get angry and violent.” 

“ _Caleb_? Angry and violent?” Pogue scoffed. 

“That's why they reported him to CPS. And CPS sent him to a doctor.” 

“And what did the doctor say?” Reid asked, like he was afraid of the answer. 

Tyler hesitated, then just said, “Before I say anything else, let me point out that these files are totally not supposed to be read by anyone, okay? It was totally illegal, all the magic I had to do to get these. Just... so you know. These weren't supposed to be read.” 

He brandished the folder at them, then said, “The doctor determined that Caleb had began talking to an imaginary friend named Chase that he claimed was his brother. He said that Chase took over for him when things were bad. The doctor said that Caleb showed signs.... that Caleb showed signs of having been sexually abused, and that he was pretty sure that the character of Chase had been created as a coping mechanism. For an _eight_ _year old_. The police investigated, but never came to any conclusions over whoever it was that had harmed him, and he was treated, to prevent the development of Dissociative Identity Disorder. Doctor said he stopped talking about Chase, said he got _really_ calm whenever he came into the office, and started getting worried about it. Caleb's been seeing this doctor once a week since he was _ten_ , to deal with this Chase guy.” 

“He's never said a thing.” Pogue breathed, eyes wide. 

Shaking his head, Tyler gestured with the folders. “From the way the doctor describes him in this thing... I don't think Caleb _knows_. This doctor has been talking to him for ten years, guys. About Chase. About the fact that Chase is an alternate personality in his head. An alternate identity. But Caleb doesn't know about him.” 

Reid hissed. “Chase is the one that _knows_ he's imaginary?” 

Tyler nodded. “Caleb doesn't even know. Chase deals with anything... painful. Like the doctors.” 

“Like the abuse.” Pogue said, quietly. 

Reid kicked the coffee table, howling in anger. 

“Hey!” Pogue yelped. 

“The police say they couldn't figure out who was _abusing_ him?!” Reid demanded, angrily. “Are they insane?! It's so easy to figure out who it was! It was _Evelyn_ , of course it was Evelyn! She thinks he looks like William, their whole dysfunctional relationship is fucking _creepy_!” 

“Caleb's never said--”

“Caleb doesn't _know_!” Reid roared. 

“Woah, calm down, Reid.” Tyler caught his friend's arm. “Calm down.” 

“What do we _do_? Report Evelyn?!” He demanded. 

“Talk to him, maybe.” Tyler suggested, softly. 

“To who?” Pogue demanded. “To Caleb? Or to or Chase?” 

\--- 

Caleb sat at the top of the stairs, hugging his legs to his chest, quietly. 

There were two little boys playing in the middle of the hallway, below him, racing cars around, miming the sounds of engines and crashes. He recognized one as himself, but the other was clearly Chase, when Chase was his age. They were laughing, softly, and he smiled as he watched them. 

“We were cute, weren't we?” Chase asked, smiling softly. 

He glanced up, and watched his other half as he slowly say beside him, resting his forearms on his knees, hands dangling. “Yeah.” 

“I wish you didn't need me, though.” Chase said, quietly. 

“I made you protect me, didn't I?” Caleb whispered, softly, watching as Evelyn walked out of the living room and called his name, softly. Little Chase looked up, sharply, and pressed his little chubby hands to little Caleb's ears, then kissed the top of his head, and stood, walking over to Evelyn, taking her hand, quietly. 

“Not exactly.” Chase murmured. “We're sort of the same person, aren't we? Different sides of the same person. Technically... _you're_ Caleb Danvers. But _I’m_ Caleb Danvers, too. You made me.” 

“How?” He demanded. 

Chase smiled tightly, and whispered, “You were my last little innocent trace. I kept you safe. I threw a bubble up around you and kept you safe, Caleb. You made me to be strong and angry and powerful. I could take the pain, I could take the – I could take everything. And _you_ could stay safe. You didn't have to feel it. You could be happy and safe... and I could take care of you.” 

“Did I know you were there?” 

“Sort of.” He hesitated, and gently kissed Caleb's temple. “I was your imaginary friend, as a child, so you knew about me then. But then we kept going to this doctor, and he kept insisting that you had to 'get past this' and 'get better' so I withdrew. I still took over anytime you might get hurt... I still dealt with the doctor, and with that _fucking_ asshole Bordy and... and I talked to your mother more than you did. Because I couldn't put you through _that_ , Caleb... I was trying to protect you from _that_... that's why I was here.” 

Caleb closed his eyes. “She went beyond... telling me I looked like my father, didn't she?” 

Chase pulled him closer, and kissed his temple again. “I'm here to prevent you from _living that,_ Caleb. That's why I’m here. I’m not going to bring down those walls.” 

He nodded, but he knew. “This is why you meant that witches are different, though.” 

“Your ascension ruined everything,” he agreed, softly. “The ascension brought me out. Your ascension made you realize that I was there.” 

He shuddered. “Where do we go from here, Chase?” 

“Wherever we want.” 

“Caleb?” 

He looked up, surprised, startled to see his mother standing at the bottom of the steps. “Mother?” 

“Caleb, darling.” She held her hands up to him. “Come.” 

Chase half stood. 

“No, _no,_ wait.” Caleb caught his – his friend? His enemy? His other half? His imaginary friend? - wrist, shaking his head. “I can do it.” 

“Caleb, this is why I’m _here_ , so that you don't have to deal with this.” 

“I have to.” He whispered. “I have to know why I did this.” 

“You did this so that you wouldn't _have_ to know!” Chase howled, desperate. 

“I have to know.” Caleb hesitated. “It's my turn to save you.” 

“Caleb?” Evelyn asked, softly. 

“Coming, mother.” 

\--- 

“Maybe we should call his doctor?” Reid suggested. 

Tyler shook his head. “I don't want to call his doctor... I mean, what if he locks him up in an insane asylum of something?” 

“I don't think they _do_ those anymore.” Pogue rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah but - “ Reid's phone started to ring in his pocket, and he growled before digging in his pocket, and tugged it out, flicking it on. “Yeah?” 

“Reid?” 

He sat up a little straighter, brows furrowed. “Caleb?” 

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. 

The others were looking at him, brows furrowed, but Reid knew what the problem was when he had heard that silence. “This isn't Caleb, is it? This is _Chase.”_

Tyler bolted forward in his seat, mouth opening. 

He shook his head, quickly, holding up his hand, quickly. “Chase, isn't it?” 

“Yeah.” The other said, finally. 

Pogue swore. 

“Hey, Chase... uh... nice to finally talk to you.” Reid said, softly, swallowing. “What's up? Is Caleb okay?” 

“No.” The other said, calmly. “Caleb's not okay. Of course Caleb's not okay, if Caleb was _okay_ , you wouldn't be talking to me. But you're witches too. You're my brothers. My covenant. Even if I’m the _second_ person in this body, and not the brother you know, at least help me. I need you to help take care of Caleb right now. And he's going to _need_ some taking care of.” 

“What did you do?” He demanded, gripping his phone so tight his knuckles were white. 

“Reid,” Chase laughed. “I didn't do anything.” 

“...Chase?” 

“Caleb tried to take care of things himself.” He murmured. 

“What'd he _do_ , Chase?” Reid demanded. 

Chase took a deep breath. “I'm taking over for awhile, all right? Just... when he wakes up later, tell him I’m sorry.” 

“ _Chase_!” Reid almost yelled. 

“I have to go.” Chase said, softly. “I have to call the cops.” 

“The cops?” He breathed. “What’s going on, Chase? What did he do?”

“What do we need to call the cops for?” Pogue shouted, stunned. 

“Take care of Caleb for me.” Chase said, again, then hung up. 

\--- 

Caleb relaxed in the corner of the couch, smiling faintly as he watched the television, hands resting on his stomach, quietly. His eyes weren't quite focused as he watched, but he was relaxed, and comfortable. He didn't care. 

“ _\- still investigating what lead the heir to the Danvers fortune to act that night_.” The news reporter was saying, on the television. “ _Details are sketchy, but they can confirm that the body of Evelyn Danvers was found in her living room three days ago, and that her son, Caleb Danvers, is the only known suspect.”_

Shifting slightly, he watched himself – was it himself, or was it Chase, he couldn't quite remember – being led out of his family home, his shirt soaked in blood, bloody droplets splattered across his cheek. He was handcuffed, and the police officers that were leading him out looked unsettled. One of the other men was just almost off screen, bent double in the bushes, wretching, and Caleb laughed softly, breathlessly, closing his eyes. 

“Shouldn't laugh at the news, Caleb, makes you look insane,” Chase murmured, as he sat beside him on the couch, and curled against his side. 

Caleb smiled at him, dopily. 

“ _Caleb Danvers is being held in protective custody in the Arbour Hospital in Boston, where doctors will assess whether or not he's capable of standing trial_.” 

Chase kissed him softly, and murmured, “I told you that you should have let me deal with her, Caleb.” 

“I was taking care of you,” he whispered, smiling softly. 

“I know.” Chase murmured, softly, curling against his side. He closed his eyes. 

“Chase.” Caleb wrapped his arm around him, keeping him close. He dropped a kiss onto Chase’s hair. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Caleb.” He murmured. 

\---

 

_In Ipswich nights are cool and fair,_

_And the voice that comes from the yonder sea_

_Sings to the quaint old mansions there_

_Of "the time, the time that used to be;"_

_And the quaint old mansions rock and groan,_

_And they seem to say in an undertone,_

_With half a sigh and with half a moan:_

_"It was, but it never again will_ _be."_

_\-- Eugene Field, The Ipswitch_

 


End file.
